The Only Stars
by MuchTooHighACost
Summary: The events immediately following the infamous "Are those bullet holes?" scene. Another super-late submission for Pepperony Week.


**My super-late, out-of-order submission for Day 1 of Pepperony Week: hurt/comfort. **

**An oh-so-original take on the oh-so-original "are those bullet holes" scene.**

* * *

He doesn't speak for a moment, and that genuinely surprises her and terrifies her all at once. He's always got a witty comment, a snappy comeback, and to suddenly see him rendered speechless makes a lump rise in her throat. But she pushes it down and presses her lips together tightly, trying to think of a plan. _What's the next step, Pepper? _

They've been at somewhat of a standstill ever since the gala, both of them acting as if it had never happened. But of course it had, and of course they couldn't ignore it, and of course she was thinking of it now as she watched the machines struggle to extract him from the suit. Of course she was thinking of his dark eyes and the way they'd consumed her, and how right his hand had felt on the bare small of her back. She thought of his chest, and how close she'd been just a week or two earlier, how she'd been _inside _it, literally, and how he'd trusted the task only to her.

"I know it's incredible, but I'm going to have to ask you not to stare," Tony says, snapping her out of it.

"I wasn't staring," she answers immediately. _God dammit. _

"So are you going to help me or not?"

"Well what can I actually do?" she snaps. Typical Tony. Telling her only what he needs and giving her no idea where to start.

"You can start by grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink and cancelling all my appointments for tomorrow."

"Absolutely not." She's dumbfounded. Who does he think he is? It had been different when he was a partier. He was nearly impossible to locate in those days, and when she did find him she usually had to extract him from a gaggle of half-naked women. Now it was different. He was always working downstairs and she hadn't seen him go out but that one time. Except for the other times he was masquerading as some sort of super hero, apparently.

"So is that a no on the first aid kit or just the appointments?" he asks.

"This isn't funny, Tony." Using his first name always gets him to pay attention, she's noticed. Plus, she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she liked the way it sounded coming out of her mouth.

"Believe me, no one finds this situation less humorous than I do."

"I find that hard to believe," she intones dryly.

"Will you just get the stupid—ow!" He winces as the final piece of the suit comes off. "Will you just get the stupid first aid kit. Pepper, please."

She doesn't know why, but she fetches the kit as he hobbles to the couch.

"What _happened_?" she asks, unwrapping a roll of bandages.

"There were some bad guys. There aren't anymore," he sighs, holding his head. "And that's all that matters."

"Is it?" There is no threat in her question, only genuine curiosity. She tips the bottle of rubbing alcohol over onto a cotton ball and says, "This is going to sting."

"Aren't you supposed to use one of those giant Q-tips for stuff like this?"

"I'm sorry I didn't go to medical school in my spare time. Hold still."

Tony hisses and clenches his jaw as she dabs the soaked cotton along the laceration on his forehead.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he says. "Not in your job description."

"I could write a book of things I've done that aren't in my job description. I could write two books."

"Why don't you?"

"Write a book?" She laughs. "Sure, first chance I get."

"Take tomorrow off," he offers.

"I'm not going to do that," she says matter-of-factly. There is a moment where she thinks Tony might say something, but he doesn't. Gingerly, she dabs at a separate wound on the ridge of his knuckles. "Can you lower your—"

"Here." Tony opens the palm of his hand and places it in hers.

She expects him to make some jibe, some pun about her taking advantage of him. But he says nothing, so she makes small talk. "So, these bad guys… what did they want?"

"Something that wasn't theirs."

Pepper can't stop a small laugh from coming out. "Don't we all?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were coming onto me, Potts." Ah, there it is.

"Well thank goodness you know better."

"Thank goodness indeed." He gives her hand a small squeeze that sends a jolt of electricity surging through her whole body.

"What will you do with the suit?" she asks, changing the subject.

He looks back over his shoulder at the mangled heap of metal. "The same thing I do with everything I get bored with: trade it in for a newer, sexier model."

Against her better judgment she says, "But this isn't a model you can pick up at the next party you go to. Is that how you've been spending your time down here? Building this?"

Tony shrugs. "Some people scrapbook."

"This isn't some _hobby_, Tony. It's taking over your life. You're down here before I arrive in the mornings and when I leave at night. Do you eat? You're clearly not sleeping."

"How can you tell that?" he asks.

"Your left eye. It twitches like crazy when you're tired."

He makes that face, the one she rarely sees—he's surprised.

"Across the human population, eye twitching is one of the most common indicators of sleep loss," he says once he gains his footing.

A smirk settles in the corner of her mouth. "Where did you read that, Wikipedia?"

"It's the first link that comes up on an internet search, what am I supposed to do, scroll to the second page like some heathen? What is this, 1998?"

"Okay, okay…" Pepper smiles. She's taken his hand in hers, her thumb smoothing over the bandage across his knuckles.

"So if it's a sign of sleep deprivation, why is yours twitching? Cause I know you get a solid eight hours of sleep every night."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." She can't remember the last time she's felt this light.

"No seriously. What're you doing here so late?"

She can feel all the blood in her body rushing to her ears as she fumbles, "Finishing—expense reports. Payroll is tomorrow and—"

"I thought you finished those three days ago." Apparently she can't hide the surprise on her face because the next thing he says is, "I do listen to you sometimes, you know. About half the time."

Pepper is flustered now. She extracts her hands from his and shuts the first aid kit with an authoritative _click_. Brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, she rises to her feet and says, "Well it only took you seven years to get that far, another seven and we should be good."

Tony's face lights up with a smile, that smile that makes her woozy. "You're gonna stick around that long? Well I'm just the luckiest guy in the world, aren't I?"

Pepper tries to stop her heart from pounding. "You went up… whatever you went up against tonight and all you walked away with were some bruises and cuts. Yes, Mr. Stark, I'd have to say you are the luckiest guy in the world."

Tony smirks and looks away. Is he actually… embarrassed? The thought of making the overcompensating, swaggering, boisterous Tony Stark embarrassed makes Pepper embarrassed, and then they are just two red-faced fools, smiling at each other like they are the only stars in the universe, and for that second, they are.


End file.
